Broken Plates
by writtenonwings
Summary: One day he left, as if he was never there at all, and in his wake he left lives shattered. The world keeps spinning on though... As always rated T for safety!


**Broken Plates**

I'm always around here, just been more of a reader than a writer lately on top of the just plain bum year 2017 has been. Here's to 2018! Cheers!

Written 04.19.17

 **Disclaimer: For fan purposes only, I own nothing. A big thanks to Anthony Horowitz for not letting these characters die in 2011, they are a part of my childhood and life and I'm glad they will continue.**

They broke, split apart like the white china plates his parents had once thrown at each other in the heated throes of one of their many arguments, messy, fast, and completely shattered.

One day it had all been fine it seemed. Looking back there was Ian however rarely he appeared, the spunky Jack, and Alex, carefree and concentrated on school and sports. Days spent on bikes or the football field. Then, suddenly, it was over. It'd been coming ever since Ian's death really, since all the changes to Alex had started, but he'd never wanted to think before about how it'd feel in the end. Without warning one morning the house in Chelsea was empty, no one to answer the door when he rang, and yet when he let himself in with the spare hidden key there was nothing missing at all. It was as if the inhabitants had just vanished into the air. He left the house with a mind disturbed, he kept the key. He tried their phones, first Alex, then Jack, leaving messages until the voicemail boxes were too full to accept any more. He tried to file a missing persons report with the police but upon inquiring, was faced with a grey man in a grey suit with cold unblinking eyes who told him not to worry, that they were investigating it thoroughly. But as he left, he was caught by the arm and the voice that hissed into his ear told him in no uncertain terms to stop looking for his friend if he wanted to have a future himself. He assumed the man wasn't with the police after all.

At school he tried to concentrate, he really did, but there was an empty seat in his classes and whispers floating around. If the rumors had been bad before they were horrible now. He just wanted to know where his friend was. His parents got worried, withdrawn was the word they used when they talked about him in hushed tones, he was just glad they'd stopped screaming at each other no matter how temporary this quiet might be. They sent him to a child psychologist who tried to convince him that he needed to move on. How could he argue with the pencil chewing woman when he couldn't tell anyone what he knew? He'd promised Alex he'd never share the secret he'd been entrusted with and even now he'd never break that promise. He used the shrink to convince his parents to change his school. It lead to taking the tube every morning to get there but it got him away from the constant flow of memories he no longer wanted.

Life moved on, dragging him with it. He would never forget the fiery redheaded woman or his blond and mysterious friend. He would never stop wondering what had happened to them, what had taken them away without a trace. It was messy, all those missing pieces and dead-ends in his mind, like why the house on Chelsea was never put up for sale or its contents emptied. There it just sat, everything in a covering of dust exactly as it had been left apart from the evidence of his own presence, eventually he stopped going back. He still kept the key. He wasn't ready for the memories to die yet. It had happened so fast. He'd seen Alex the night before he'd disappeared; he'd been fine, happy even. They'd made plans for the next morning but overnight he'd lost his best friend. He was left alone, completely shattered.

Gradually he stopped watching the news and scouring the newsprints, even the obituaries, searching for any trace of his friend. Slowly he moved on, but he never gave up hope. He made friends again even when none of them fit just right, no one could fill the hole Alex had left behind. When it came time for university he remembered a blond haired youth whose smile had slowly started to droop as his brown eyes become too old and tired, who had disappeared without a trace, leaving seemingly only one person behind to miss him. He set his sights on becoming a social worker so that he'd be able to stop any fifteen year-old from ever having to carry the weight of the world on their shoulders like that again. It was in his second year at university that he met a girl named Marjorie and was struck head over heels in love with her. She was studying pre-law and understood that there were some things about him he just couldn't explain just as he understood that he couldn't comprehend everything about her all the time either. She had lost a sister to violent crime and the killer had never been found. Alone, they were broken people, but together they were whole, accepting of one another, and surprisingly happy, really and truly happy. With her by his side the lights were turned back on in his life and everything seemed a little less cold and distant as it had for so long. He couldn't remember having laughed so much as he had in the last few months with her as he had since his days at Brooklands with Alex.

It was a random happening that he was in the right place at the right time really. Marjorie had texted him about a new vegan café in London she wanted to try so, as unappetizing as it sounded to himself, he suggested they meet up there after their respective morning classes and ecstatically she had said yes. Sitting in the cold air at one of the outside bistro tables and sniffing dubiously at the kale muffin-like substance he'd ordered he got the text that Marjorie would be unable to make it. Her professor was keeping the class over late today for a lecture of some sort.

"Great" he muttered throwing the green tinged and untouched pastry thing at the nearest bin and missing by a long shot "I've just got all the luck today." He muttered bending over and picking up after himself.

"Your aim was always off." A voice called out to him the tone trying to be teasing but coming across rather pained. He knew that voice, that lilted Chelsea accent. Mess forgotten he leapt to his feet grabbing out at the man standing opposite the waste bin and knocking the one hundred percent recycled paper coffee cup that he held, out of his hands, in the process.

"Alex" he barely dared to breathe taking in the specter in front of him and memorizing it away, praying that this wasn't some sort of delusion. The man had a tall lithe frame but the wrists he held captive felt a touch too thin. Black suit pants, shined black shoes, and an expensive black weather hardy coat zipped up to the neck with a suspicious bulge under one armpit mostly concealed by the flapping end of a Chelsea football club scarf. The blond hair had darkened a shade, gone from a mop to a tightly contained militaristic crew cut, a paling scar wandered from hairline to eyebrow, matching twin pale scar lines stroked across the opposite cheek, and the familiar brown eyes looked tired but they were warm and held a sparkle he had so sorely missed to see. It had been six years but undoubtedly this was Alex Rider.

"I'm so sorry Tom." Alex said and if both men's eyes were moist they'd blame it on the weather.

"It doesn't matter." he said pulling his long lost friend into a tight embrace that he had to force himself to let go "Just don't ever leave me again. Please." He didn't ask about Jack deep down he realized he already knew. Hers was a soul that was always too good for this world.

"Never." Alex agreed nodding absently. "Besides, I wouldn't want to miss meeting whatever girl that got you to come here." He smirked that crooked grin and for the first time in years Tom felt whole again.

"How do you know there's a girl?" He fell into the old habits of bantering as if not a day had passed.

"You are a lot of things mate, but a vegan isn't one of them."

"Oh, and you are?" he snarked back playfully

"No, but they do brew a good bean water." he nodded at the spilt coffee.

"I guess I owe you one huh?"

"I'll take you up on it another time. I've got to get back to work before they realize I've gone. I just saw you and I had to…"

"Yeah, thanks." and he meant it with the very fiber of his being. "So you're working?"

"Banking runs in the family I guess." Alex waggled the scarred eyebrow and jerked his head at the large old-fashioned institution directly across the street with large letters reading _Royal and General Bank_ across the front.

"You don't mean?"

"Yeah Tom, I do." he sighed wearily and turned to go but glanced back hesitantly. "I'll be seeing you?"

"Yes, of course, just… when exactly?" he pushed.

"Been too long yeah?" he laughed.

"You have no idea."

"I think I have somewhat of an idea." the blonde winced slightly looking away in shame; the years between them were laid out like a roadmap across his scarred face.

"Sorry," he hurried "you still on about Chelsea?" he nodded at the scarf.

"Well, they are still the best." He said, the confidence swaggering its way back into his lopsided smile and that smile made all those lonely years worth it.

"There's a game on Friday." He allowed himself a grin and it felt good, "I've got tickets." It's not like Marjorie liked football anyway, he'd make it up to her, oh-boy would he make it up to her. Now he owed it to her, to her crazy food habits, for regaining a friend he had thought was gone for good.

"Surely you've got someone to go with." tom could see Alex trying not to impose, manners instilled in him by Ian.

"Yeah, you." he insisted firmly, playfully punching his shoulder and trying to not notice his barely concealed wince.

"Now Tom," he started again.

"Look mate, I've been waiting years to go see Chelsea win a match with my best friend by my side. You can't deny me that can you?"

"You know they aren't favored to win this one right?"

"Then I guess we'll have to go again."

"Alright," he guffawed, his face lit up and smiling "alright then, Friday it is."

"Friday." Tom confirmed. With a nod of his head Alex left, hurrying across the street and disappearing inside the dark door held open by the doorman of the old fashioned bank. Tom sighed watching the door shut after his friend. Alex was gone again, but this time he knew he'd see him again. Maybe they weren't so much like the shattered plates after all because those couldn't be put back together, no matter the amount of glue or time. Yet all it took was a few quick words over a messily spilled coffee and bad food and it felt like everything missing in the past years of his life was made whole once more. No longer was he left shattered. Those broken plates could stay in the past. Tom liked the thought of the future facing him now, he liked it a lot.


End file.
